


Us Two

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, Child Abuse, Day 6 - Ambarussa, Feanorian week 2017, Gen, Second Kinslaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: "Dior was slain also, and Nimloth his wife, and the cruel servants of Celegorm seized his young sons and left them to starve in the forest."Maedhros was not the first to look for the missing twins. Nor did he ever learn that they had been found.





	

**Author's Note:**

> While it does not qualify as 'major character death', there are character deaths in this.

Ambarussa frowned to himself.

He was certain those three neri had had the twin princes with them when last he saw them. Not that he had been paying close attention, but it was hard to miss a pair of toddlers in the midst of the controlled chaos of their headquarters.

Minding ‘headquarters’ – the quick makeshift camp set up just beyond the entrance to the fabled cavern kingdom of Menegroth – had been his assignment. It has been some time since any of his brothers trusted him not to do something stupid in a fight, like get himself killed. So while they insisted on dragging him along, he is not expected to do any of the actual fighting to reclaim the Silmaril. 

He doesn’t quite see the point. Anyone with half a brain could do what he’s doing right now. He could have stayed back at Amon Ereb and enjoyed the quiet. Except that they probably hadn’t trusted he wouldn’t do anything stupid there either…

Sometimes he’s tempted to tell them that if all they had been going to do was carry him around Beleriand like a piece of luggage, they might have just let him do whatever ‘stupid’ thing he had been trying to do to get himself killed at Losgar. It would have been far less trouble for everyone.

Ambarussa looked closer at the three soldiers. They were wearing Tyelko’s livery, so they’re his followers. Normally he would wait for his older brother to speak to his own people, but word has already been brought out of the caves. Tyelko won’t be speaking to anyone anymore. 

He ambled over to them. He may be the least of his father’s sons, but he was still a prince of the House of Fëanaro, and they all snapped to attention at the sight of him.

“Where are your prisoners?” he asked bluntly, not bothering with pleasantries. 

Two of them traded glances, while the third scuffed his foot on the ground as if hoping he may find an answer that way.

“I asked you a question!”

His voice snapped with authority, and all around the clearing, heads turned at the rare sound of Ambarussa raising his voice.

“They may have gotten a little lost,” one of them suggested halfheartedly, while his companion stifled a snicker.

“You had best hope they haven’t,” Ambarussa replied, his voice dropping even below his normal tone. 

All three look startled at how menacing the ‘harmless one’ sounded.

“You, you, and you!” he snapped at the three nearest non-Tyelko soldiers. “Take their weapons. They are to be kept under guard. No one goes near them until I return.”

He sees three startled nods of compliance, and the nearest one, one of Moryo’s people, immediately extends his hand to remove knife and bow from the first of the offenders.

“Where are you going, my prince?” asked one of his own men nervously.

“Looking for what these idiots lost,” he growled. “If Maedhros comes before I return, tell him to question the ones under guard.”

Then he strode into the forest.

He knew which direction they’d come from – he’d seen them, the lackwits hadn’t even been trying to conceal their deed as they swaggered back in – and between skills learned from Oromë’s followers, skills learned from Tyelko, and what he’s picked up here in Beleriand, following their trail was no challenge.

It was what he’d find at the other end of it that worried him. It’s the dead of winter, freezing, snowing, and no moon. With Thingol’s maia queen gone, no Girdle protected these woods anymore. Anything could be lurking.

And those pea brains decided this was a good place to leave a pair of three year olds. 

It’s when he runs out of tracks an hour or more later that he begins to worry. This is as far as they went, so the children can’t have gone very far – at least, he doesn’t think they could have – but he can neither see nor hear them.

Maybe he should have brought someone with him. Too late now.

It’s then that he realized he didn’t even know the children’s names. Pits of Angband, maybe he _is_ as scatterbrained as his brothers think. That should have been an obvious thing to ask before charging off.

“Diorion?” he called softly, hoping they’d answer to that. “Little princes?”

He’s not entirely sure if it’s safe to call louder, or if the children will think it a trap when they see his red cloak. They can’t have missed that it was elves in red who abandoned them in the first place. (Or any of the other things elves in red had likely been doing within the caves. He didn’t want to think about that.)

“Little ones? I will not allow anyone to harm you!”

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he heard the soft sniffling, and a strange whuffing sound that he recognized as something being dragged along the forest floor.

He followed his ears and found the tell-tale track of whatever was being dragged. After that, it took only moments to find the small clearing where one tiny child was doing his best to drag the other one toward the dubious shelter of a space between some tree roots. The child being dragged looked to be dead weight, showing no sign that he was conscious or able to help their attempt at flight.

The upright child froze, more likely in fright than anything else, when he realized they were no longer alone, before frantically redoubling his efforts.

“Oh, little ones,” Ambarussa said sadly. “You are safe now, I promise.”

The child’s tear-filled eyes did not exactly trust him, but he did stop, easing his brother’s head and shoulders to the ground. 

Ambarussa knew it helped that he had no weapon in his hand, and he was an adult saying that things would be ok, something they had probably not heard from any other this night.

He was shocked at their appearance. The twins he had seen but a few hours before had been well-cared for elflings, frightened but unharmed.

The bruises he can see even from several rangar away are fresh, and rage inducing. These were children. There was _nothing_ ones so young were capable of doing or saying to have deserved such blows. And this had been done not by orcs, but by _elves_.

He crossed the small clearing to the children as quickly as he dared, and was terrified by what he found at closer quarters. 

The twin being dragged had not moved at all since his brother had released him, and Ambarussa couldn’t tell if the bluish tinge of his lips was from cold – for neither child was dressed for outdoors – or from lack of air. 

“Will you let me try to help him?” he asked the child who was still on his feet.

At the boy’s watery nod, Ambarussa reached for the child on the ground.

His first touch told him there was nothing he could do. There was no pulse, no breath. The boy on the ground was dead.

He made sure to leash his fury. He mustn’t scare the surviving child.

“I am Ambarussa. In your language, I think that would be Amras. What is your name, little one?”

“Elurín,” the child murmured. “Can you make Eluréd better?”

“I am sorry, Elurín,” Ambarussa said hoarsely, hating to say it, but loathe to lie to the child. “I can’t. No one can. Namo – Badhron? – has called him to his halls. He is dead.”

The wail the child let out touched a chord somewhere deep in Ambarussa’s scarred fëa, for he remembered once making a sound like that.

He whipped his cloak off, and wrapped the shivering child in it, cradling him to his own body, knowing it was vital to try to warm him.

“I want naneth,” the boy whimpered. 

Ambarussa bowed his head, aware he could not fulfill that request either, but reluctant to give the young one more bad news.

“I know, little one, I know. My brother died too.”

“You don’t know!” the child sobbed. “We are _twins_. We have always been together.”

“No, little one, I do know,” Ambarussa whispered. “I was twins once too.”

For a long minute, it was silent in the forest, as the two halves that did not make one whole sat together in shared misery. 

Ambarussa did not know what to do. He could feel the little boy’s fëa straining to follow his brother. He had tried that too, but he had five older brothers who between them had made him live, stubbornly anchored him to life. Not to mention, both his parents had still lived. 

Losing one parent could kill an elfling so young. This one had lost both this night.

He stood. He had to get the boy back to the caves, to find the sister if he could. She was his only chance.

“No!” Elurín yelped. “No, we can’t leave him alone here!”

Ambarussa would absolutely have left the dead twin to bury later had he not felt that each step away from the little corpse was like another blow to the living one. He reached out to the child with his own fëa, hoping against hope that perhaps just having someone – anyone – who cared enough to try could be enough.

He sank back down to the forest floor, hugging the boy as tightly as he dared, rocking him, trying desperately to keep the cold away, to let him know he was safe and cherished as a child should be.

He didn’t often – he didn’t often need to, with Kano around – but he began to sing. It was an old song, one he remembered from when he was small. Ammë would sing it in her studio as she worked, with him and Ambarussa tucked into their shared basket off to one side for their nap. It sparkled with love, and warmth, and the glow of memory untouched by darkness.

“Ambarussa?” came a weak little voice.

“What, little one?” he asked gently. 

“I’m _scared_ ,” the child whispered. “What if Eluréd has gone so far ahead I can’t find him?”

“Then look for your adar or naneth,” Ambrussa replied quietly. “They’ll be waiting for you.”

“What if they’re not?”

Ambarussa didn’t have it in him to let a child die afraid of what would happen next.

“My brother will be where you’re going, too, little one. He will help you.”

Elurín’s voice was so wispy he could barely make out the words.

“What’s his name?”

“He’s Ambarussa, too.”

There was the merest ghost of a smile, and then Ambarussa was the only one there.

He couldn’t have said how long he sat there, clutching the little body, with the other one just a few steps away. 

He would never tell his brothers, but for just a few seconds, he thought that perhaps he should go with them. If he couldn’t manage to loose his fëa from his hroä as the child had done, there was always his knife.

The only thing that stopped him was that if he did, if the snow covered them and his older brothers didn’t find them, the three miscreants responsible for the two little bodies would not be punished.

With a shudder that was not quite a sob, Ambarussa stood. 

He couldn’t take the little bodies back with him – he wasn’t entirely sure what Maedhros would do if confronted with the tiny corpses. Ambarussa wanted the culprits punished, but he wasn’t so sure his brother’s self-control would be strong enough to keep ‘punishment’ from turning into ‘bloody death’. 

Not only that, he didn’t want to have to explain. His brothers would know the lie if he tried to say he’d found them both dead. And there was no way to tell of the one boy following the other that wouldn’t sound like an accusation when it’s him telling it.

His surviving brothers will face pain enough without the reminder that they have one living brother who doesn’t particularly want to. 

He looked toward the tree Elurín had been trying to pull his brother to when he came upon them. Yes, it will do. There was space enough for the two boys amid the roots. And a tree of Doriath will ensure that none of the Enemy’s creatures dishonor their bones.

He laid Elurín on the ground and pulled the cloak open to allow him to place Eluréd on it as well. Then he wrapped both of them together, knowing it would not have upset them at all to share a shroud.

He laid them among the tree roots, maneuvering the sad little bundle in gently, careful not to inflict any harm on bodies that could no longer feel such a thing. When he had it placed to his satisfaction, he stepped back, and bowed.

“Námo, though you told us no echo of our lamentation would you hear, perhaps prayer will reach you if it is not for us – please take care of these little ones.”

_And if you do hear – I am sorry. So sorry. I do not know why these children had to come to you. It should not have been._

Curvo had mentioned once that the Sindar talked to trees, though Ambarussa wasn’t sure how he had known. If there was any particular trick to it, or if trees had a language, he hadn’t said. So Ambarussa simply faced the tree, and spoke.

“Master tree, please guard them well. Let no dark creatures disturb their ever-rest.”

And he bowed again.

To his surprise, the roots of the tree began to shift, until the space that had once shown between them was fully covered. If he had not already known that there was anything there, he would never have spotted the red bundle beneath.

“I thank you,” he said quietly, bowing once more with his hand on his heart.

\---

He met his eldest brother on the way back to where he’d come from.

Maedhros looked furious.

“Where have you been?” he demanded. “What possessed you to go running off like that?”

Ambarussa frowned.

“Did you not question those three trolls?” he asked. “I’m sure I left word that you should.”

His brother’s expression turned grim.

“Yes. I’m going to look for the children now. Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Ambarussa nodded.

“I don’t think the chances of finding them are good,” he said. “I followed the trail as far as I could.”

Both true statements. He hasn’t lied. He just hasn’t told his big brother everything. The snow will have covered the evidence of what he’d left out by now.

“You should have had the sense to dress warmer,” Maedhros grumbled. “No cloak, no gloves – did you even think to take a weapon with you?”

“I have my knife and my bow,” Ambarussa replied, unperturbed. “It didn’t occur to me that walking up with a sword strapped on would inspire confidence in a pair of Sindarin princes who’ve just seen what swords do.”

Maedhros flinched.

“Get back and get warm,” he snapped. “And let Kano know you’re back.”

“Of course,” Ambarussa agreed.

As if it would be necessary. He’d probably find his second oldest brother fretting at the edge of the camp with one eye on the wounded and one eye on the forest looking for him and Maedhros.

He underestimated. Kano had _both_ eyes on the forest.

But that might have been because there were three biers covered with red cloaks behind him. Tyelko wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t be speaking to anyone anymore.

He submitted to the intense hug that he knew was more a product of his older brother’s relief than anything else without protest.

“Curvo and Moryo too?” he asked in a subdued tone. 

Kano nodded. 

“We found them further in the caves, not far from each other. Unlike Tyelko, they didn’t charge straight for the king. They went for the nursery.”

“Probably Curvo’s idea,” Ambarussa said tiredly. 

Kano looked at him oddly.

“If we had the king’s children, he’d have to give up the Silmaril, wouldn’t he?” Ambarussa explained. “That’s how Curvo thinks. Thought.”

Curvo would never have let idiots turn them out into the freezing night, much less lay a finger on them in anger.

“Yes, I suppose that might have worked,” Kano sighed. “Except that no one has seen anything of the little girl, so she’s probably escaped with some of the Sindarin lords, and the boys are missing.”

Oh, right, he had something to do.

Ambarussa marched up to the cretins who were still under guard. 

Their guards looked considerably less confused and much angrier now – they must have heard what the three had done. Well, whatever the three have confessed to, at any rate. He rather doubted they’d mentioned beating a pair of toddlers. If they’d been fool enough to say so to Maedhros, the guards would be collecting pieces of them for burial.

Someone was just bringing food for the unlucky offenders.

“No!” Ambarussa called. 

For the second time, all eyes turned to him.

“My prince?” the elf holding the plates of stew asked in confusion.

“Hear me now, all of you,” Ambarussa said, letting his voice carry so that the entire camp would hear. “No one is to give them food, or drink, or aid of any kind.”

“But, my prince-”

Ambarussa cut off any protest.

“They carried two boys of three into the forest and left them there, with no regard for what might happen to them. They left those children neither food nor drink, or even warm clothes. They abandoned them in the dark and the snow. I say they shall share their fate! Until the little princes are found and returned, nothing is to be given them. No one is to speak with them. No one is to help them. And no one is to pity them.”

“My prince, what if the children are not found?” one of the guards asked.

“Then the three of them will have better chances of surviving in the forest than the little boys do,” Ambarussa snapped. “They are adult neri who know how to forage, how to find shelter, how to find water, how to protect themselves. I doubt three year olds know any such thing.”

“You heard my brother,” another voice said, carrying effortlessly.

Kano had joined them, and the look his eyes made Ambarussa think the offenders might just be lucky that it had been him who passed judgement.

Not that his judgement had any kindness in it. He knew perfectly well that Dior’s twins would not be found. And no other elves will take in three Noldor who have been cast out by their own kind. It will be slower, but in the end they will share the twins’ fate in full.


End file.
